


Don't Forget Me

by Mistyshadows



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Gen, it just depends on if anyone actually wants more, its a first meeting, there may or may not be more chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 10:50:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11896197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistyshadows/pseuds/Mistyshadows
Summary: You work in a coffee shop on Earth, and the crew of the famous Enterprise sits down one morning while on leave. Among the crew is a young lad who everyone calls Chekov.





	Don't Forget Me

"Hurry up, girl!"  
  
"I've been sitting here for six minutes and I still don't have my coffee!"  
  
"I said no whipped cream!"  
  
You squeeze your eyes closed for the briefest of moments before scrambling to fix the orders. Everyone is still shouting, making you increasingly nervous.  
  
"Just a moment, ma'am, I'll get your order taken. I'm sorry for the wait," you say, pausing at the table where a large woman sat, stomach pressed against the wood. She gives you a loud "hmph" and looks out the window at the city.  
  
The door jingles, and four men, a male Vulcan, and a beautiful woman enters. The fact you hear the bell surprises you. When the crowd is this rowdy, you usually can't hear your own thoughts, let alone the tiny jingle. You sneak a glance while fixing a new macchiato with no whipped cream for the tan creature with eight arms.  
  
He's beautiful, you think, looking at the smallest of the group. The man is young with curly brown hair and pale eyes, and he seems to have innocence radiating off of him. He looks to be about your age, maybe a year younger.  
  
"Have a seat any where you like. I'll be with you in a few minutes," you said, passing by them. Even you can hear the exhaustion in your voice.  
  
"Thanks, sweetheart," says the man in front. He's very handsome, too, but a few years too old for your particular taste. His startling green eyes are bright and full of energy.  
  
The group goes to sit, and you finish the other orders in a hurry.  
  
"Sorry for the wait," you apologize, turning on the PADD. "What can I get you lot?"  
  
"I dunno. Something with caffeine," one of the men says in a rough voice. He frowns and narrows his eyes at the menu.  
  
"Get Grumpy over here a macchiato," says the man with the green eyes, winking at you. "And one for me as well."  
  
"Alright." You smile politely and turn to the others.  
  
"I'll have a frappuccino," says the woman, flipping her long, dark ponytail over her shoulder. She nudges the Vulcan man, giving him a look.  
  
"I wish for only a water, thank you," he says after a small stare-down with the woman.  
  
You nod, typing it in.  
  
"Any scotch here?" asks another man, his Scottish accent distinguished.  
  
"I'm sorry, we're not licensed to sell alcohol," you say. "But Gogh's down the street sells."  
  
"That's alright, lass. Then I'll have what they're having," he says, nodding at the grumpy man and the flirt.  
  
"Alright!" you smile, glad you haven't lost a customer, but you feel no guilt for telling him that alcohol is sold elsewhere. You turn to the last, the young man who caught your eye before.  
  
"Can I has a… a…" he seems to struggle with the words. You notice he has a very strong Russian accent. "Macchiato?"  
  
"Of course," you say with a smile. You review the screen. "So that's four machiattos, one frappichino, and one water, correct?" When the group nods, you close the PADD's screen. "I'll get that right out to you."  
  
"Thank you," says the woman, smiling.  
  
You nod once and dash off.  
  
When you're finished making the drinks, you look up and are surprised to see the crowd has thinned out. The large group are sitting in the corner booth, chatting animatedly. You almost hate to interrupt, they all look so happy.  
  
"Here you go." You slide their corresponding drinks in front of them. "Does anyone want anything to eat, or will the coffees- and water- be all?"  
  
"Do you have pastries?" asks the Scottish man, looking hopeful.  
  
"Yes, sir. We have them all up in the case over there." You gesture towards a huge display case at the front of the café. "Its mostly croissants and cupcakes and the like, though."  
  
"Chocolate cupcake?" he asks.  
  
"Yes, sir, we have them. You want one?"  
  
"Yes!" he beams, making you smile.  
  
"One chocolate cupcake," you say, writing it in the PADD. Your eyes sweep the group. "Anything else?"  
  
"Crosaunt?" mumbles the Russian kid, unsure.  
  
"Just one, or would you like a few? They're a bit airy."  
  
"Uh," he looks to the flirtatious man. "Keptin?"  
  
"Get as many as you want, Chekov, just as long as you don't throw up on anyone," the older man says, chuckling.  
  
"I vill start vith two?" the young man- Chekov?- says, turning back to you. He looks proud to be ordering for himself, you think with a smile.  
  
"No problem."  
  
"I think the rest of us are good," says the one the Russian man called "keptin."  
  
"Give me just one minute and I'll get the cupcake and the croissants, okay?" you say, already backing away.  
  
"(Y/l/n), do you have a minute?" you hear. Your boss, Mr McKenna stands in the doorway, his face lined with false worry.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"I need to go out and pick up my daughter from school. You okay to run the place alone for an hour?"  
  
Its not like I haven't done it a million times, even when you arre here, you think bitterly. "Yeah, its no problem," you say out loud, forcing a smile.  
  
"Good. See you in a bit," he says, waving. He's already halfway out the back door by the time you can say goodbye.  
  
You sigh and run a hand through your hair, frustrated. McKenna leaves you far too often, but you can't complain. You need this job desperately to pay the rent on your apartment.  
  
You quickly retrieve the group's food and then attend to the few others left in the café. The hour passes, and McKenna still hasn't come back. The café is set to close in forty five minutes, and only the group of six and two young girls with forest green skin are left.  
  
Your phone rings, startling you. You flip it open without checking to see who it is and answer. Its obviously McKenna; he's the only person who ever calls you anymore.  
  
"(Y/n)? I can't get back tonight. Can you close up for me?"  
  
You pinch the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath. "Yes, sir. That's fine."  
  
"You're a doll. Thanks," he says, then hangs up.  
  
"Excuse me?" mumbles someone. You turn and come face to face with the Russian boy.  
  
"Ah, sir! How can I help you?" you say, remembering to call him 'sir.'  
  
"My friends is leaving, and requires take-away cup?" he bites his lip, looking at you shyly from under dark lashes. You see his eyes are a vibrant blue-green, and when they meet your eyes, they hold the stare.  
  
"Of course. Let me get that for ya," you say, reaching behind the counter and grab a styrofoam cup. "Anything else I can get for you guys?"  
  
"No. T-thank you," he stutters out.  
  
You only smile, and he walks away quickly.  
  
Odd, but he's hot, eh? you think, watching him and the others. He hands the cup to the grumpy man, who dumps his coffee in it and throws a few dollars on the table, leaving. The Scottish man goes with him, nodding at you and smiling as he follows.  
  
Eventually, the girls from the other table leave, as well as the Vulcan man and the woman. The only people left in the café with you are the older flirt and the Russian. You flip the sign over, deciding that closing five minutes early is not going to hurt the business any.  
  
You're walking over to the table to clear away the fourth plate of croissants the Russian man has eaten when the older of the two stands and says, "Well, Chekov, I better head home. Have a good shore leave, and I'll see you in two weeks, right?"  
  
"Yes, Keptin Kirk! Have good shore leave," the Russian says, standing as well and shaking the man's hand. "See you in two weeks, sir."  
  
Kirk? Captain Kirk? You look closely at your customer. Sure enough, the man is none other than legendary Captain Kirk. He had been in the news for more than a few weeks. You hadn't noticed at first because you were so stressed out.  
  
Kirk leaves, the bell jingling loudly behind him.  
  
"Hey, do you need anything before I clean up?" you ask the Russian boy.  
  
"No, thank you." He blinks quickly. You are turning away when he suddenly says, "Miss?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Vhat is your name?"  
  
Slightly confused, you answer, "(Y/f/n). And yours?"  
  
"Pavel Chekov."  
  
"Your friend, that was Captain Kirk, right?" When he nods, you continue, "You weren't on the Enterprise, were you?"  
  
Pavel beams proudly. "I was. I'm their nawigator."  
  
Woah. "That's impressive," you say, and his smile widens. You lean against the counter, studying the young man. "Wait, how old are you?"  
  
He must be asked this question a lot, you realize as he withers slightly. "Sewenteen," he sighs, his accent twisting his v's into w's.  
  
The sound of rain begins, the light plinking on the roof startling you at first. Quickly, the light rain starts to pour, and the plinking turns into thumps.  
  
You had been slient for a moment, listening to the rain, but now you turn back to Pavel. "You've already been through the Academy? You must be bloody brilliant."  
  
He perks up again. "I'm not meester Spock, but I vas top lewel-"  
  
There is a loud banging on the door, covering Pavel's words. McKenna stands there, soaked with the rain. You dash to unlock the door.  
  
"I forgot my wallet," he mutters, brushing past you, not even glancing your way as he heads toward the back.  
  
"A-alright," you manage, but he's already gone.  
  
"He is boss man?" Pavel asks, frowning.  
  
"Yeah, that's boss man," you sigh.  
  
"He is… hurried."  
  
You nod. "Quite so. Always bustling back and forth everywhere, he is," you say, sarcasm dripping in your voice.  
  
Pavel turns to you, raising his eyebrows. Quietly, he asks, "He is not good boss?"  
  
You shake your head. "Mels, his wife, was the boss before."  
  
"Before… vhat?"  
  
"She had an accident last year, and was killed. Shame, too. She always had a kind word to say to everyone. Her daughter, Lilliana, used to come over and have playdates with my little sister. Now Mr McKenna won't allow it."  
  
Pavel makes a confused noise, sitting down at the bar. "Vhat? Vhy?"  
  
You shrug. "No idea."  
  
Just then McKenna comes out from the back room, still dripping water. "Make sure you lock up." Then he's gone, the only indication he was even there are the puddle trails on the floor.  
  
Pavel's eyes find yours again and he smiles softly. "Vell, I better get back."  
  
"Oh! Of course, of course," you say, turning scarlet red. After all, what was he going to do, stay the night at the restaurant? Honestly, you could be dimwitted sometimes.  
  
"Do you vork tomorrow?"  
  
You lean against the door frame, crossing your arms. "Yes, I do. The rest of the week, in fact."  
  
"Can I… can I come back by?" Pavel asks, blushing.  
  
"Anytime. If you come tomorrow, I can let you sample the other desserts, if you'd like."  
  
"I vould like zat wery much." He nods. He glances at the door and you remember he has to go home.  
  
"Right! So, I'll see you around, then?"  
  
Pavel bows his head slightly. "Yes, Miss (y/l/n)."  
  
"Oh, call me (y/n)."  
  
He chuckles lightly. "Vell, goodnight, (y/n)."  
  
"Goodnight, Pavel."


End file.
